The room was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat thundering inside my chest too loud, too fast, too desperate. Edward had just said it. He had said the one thing I spent weeks pretending I didn't want, didn't crave, didn't ache to hear.
"I love you, Leah."
The words still floated in the air like smoke I couldn't breathe through. My lungs tightened, panic and longing strangling each other in my throat. He looked at me like the confession had ripped him open raw, hurting, terrified but unashamed. And for the first time since the night I met him, he didn't look like the untouchable, confident man who controlled every room he walked into.
He looked breakable.
He looked like a man who had placed his entire heart into my hands and was praying I wouldn't drop it.
My lips trembled, but my voice refused to work. Edward didn't move, didn't speak. He just watched me, chest rising and falling, like my next breath determined his.
And maybe it did.
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling naked even though his shirt was slipping down my shoulder. The lamp's soft glow cast gold shadows over his face the tension in his jaw, the softness in his eyes, the fear hiding behind the hunger.
"Leah…" His voice cracked slightly. Edward never cracked. "Say something."
I swallowed hard. My eyes burned. My throat closed. My entire body ached with the weight of everything I'd tried to suppress.
"I don't…" I wiped my face, hands shaking. "I don't know how to do this."
He took a slow step toward me. Then another. Stopping just close enough that I could feel his warmth, his breath, his presence cocooning me. But he didn't touch me. He didn't force the space between us to disappear. He just waited.
"I know," he whispered. "But you're doing it. Every time you look at me. Every time you let me touch you. Every time you let yourself feel something you're convinced you shouldn't."
I looked up at him, my vision blurring through my tears.
"Don't don't say things like that," I whispered. "You make it harder."
He let out a breath, shaky and pained. "Good. It's supposed to be hard, Leah. Because it matters."
My chest cracked open at that.
He reached up slowly, like he expected me to run, and traced the back of his knuckles down my cheek. That single touch almost shattered me.
"I didn't mean to fall for you," he murmured. "But I did. I tried not to. God, I tried. You were supposed to be just an arrangement. Just a distraction. Something simple. But nothing about you is simple."
"Edward…"
"I love you," he repeated softly, thumb brushing my jaw. "And I'm not taking it back. Not even if you walk away."
The tears finally spilled over.
Because I realized something terrifyingly beautiful
I believed him.
For the first time in my life, someone wasn't just saying the words to keep me, or manipulate me, or own me. He wasn't saying them because he wanted something.
He was saying them because losing me hurt him more than any consequence of loving me.
I pressed a trembling hand to his chest. His heart was hammering just as wildly as mine. That alone almost undid me.
"I didn't want this," I whispered. "I didn't want to feel anything for you."
"I know," he said softly. "But you do."
It wasn't a question.
I nodded slowly, my forehead pressing against his chest as my breath hitched.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" I whispered into his shirt. "You're Frank's son. My father's son."
His hand slid into my hair, holding me gently. "I know who I am. But that's not all I am. And it's definitely not all we are."
I closed my eyes.
Because nothing made sense anymore except him.
Edward. The man who ruined my rules. The man who made me break every boundary I set. The man who showed up in the rain, soaked and trembling, just to tell me he couldn't lose me.
And here he was now, still choosing me, even when everything was messy and impossibly complicated.
I lifted my head to look at him.
His eyes softened instantly, like seeing my face wet, vulnerable, trembling meant something to him. He brushed a tear from my cheek with the pad of his thumb.
"You don't have to say it back," he whispered. "I didn't tell you to pressure you. I told you because I couldn't keep it in anymore."
"I know," I breathed. "I know that's why it scares me."
He frowned slightly. "Why?"
"Because you mean it."
Silence. Hot. Heavy. Charged.
"Leah…" His voice was a low, aching sound. "Look at me."
I did.
And it felt like staring into the eyes of a storm built just for me one I wanted to drown in.
"You're safe with me," he said. "Even in this. Especially in this."
My chest tightened again.
Because I realized something else
I didn't just want him. I didn't just need him.
I loved him.
God help me, I loved him.
My breath stuttered as I lifted my shaking hands to his jaw.
His eyes widened just slightly hope flickering like something afraid to burn too brightly.
"Edward…" I whispered.
His grip tightened on my waist, but he didn't pull me closer. He waited like a man afraid to breathe wrong.
"I…" My voice broke. "I love you."
His entire body stilled.
Like the world paused for him.
Then he inhaled sharply like he'd been drowning and I'd just given him air.
"Leah…" he breathed, voice wrecked. "Say it again."
I exhaled shakily, tears spilling freely. "I love you."
His hands cupped my face instantly, tender but urgent, his forehead pressing against mine like he couldn't get close enough.
"Again," he whispered, almost pleading.
"I love you," I repeated, voice shaking but unapologetically real. "I love you, Edward."
A broken sound fell from his throat, something between relief and disbelief, and then his mouth was on mine slow at first, reverent, worshipping. Like he was kissing the words straight from my soul.
The kiss grew deeper, and I sank into him, into the feeling, into everything I'd been running from. His hands slid down my arms, my waist, pulling me against him until our hearts were beating the same rhythm.
When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine, breathing hard.
"You have no idea," he whispered, "what you just did to me."
I smiled through my tears, brushing my thumb across his lower lip. "I think I do."
His hand slid to the back of my neck, holding me gently but firmly.
"I'm yours," he said. "Not because you asked. Not because you want me to be. But because I don't know how to be anything else anymore."
My knees almost gave out.
He kissed me again slow, deep, full of the love neither of us could hide anymore. The kind of kiss that branded. Claimed. Promised.
When our lips finally parted, he pulled me into his chest, arms wrapping around me like he intended to keep me there forever.
And for the first time since meeting him, I let him.
I melted into him, into the warmth, into everything that terrified and completed me.
"I love you," I whispered into his skin, letting the last of my fear dissolve.
His arms tightened.
"And I'll spend every day proving how much I love you," he murmured into my hair.
For once, the world felt right.
For once, choosing him didn't feel like a mistake.
It felt like destiny.